the icy water stung his numb body, kept him down. spun him until he didn't know which was up. which was down. when was he alive. when was he not. or was he even there. or was he somewhere else that isn't cold, somewhere warm, somewhere with fresh scent of grass all over, a place where the sun would look so close when it set to show the stars for us to wish through.

pain ripped through his leg. a distinct crack was then heard from below. he opened his mouth but it was filled. water in his throat. water on his eyes. on his nose. on his ears. he couldn't hear anything, just your murmurings. your whispers. all you.

please

he would turn his head upon hearing that. looked for you. tried to reach out. but found nothing but black. water. the cramped interior of the safe caging him. his eyes would blur and clear minutes later. closing his eyes, and all he'll see is you and the small things you do. your smile. the what could've been and what ifs. the day he was shot. the day you were captured, thrown on the same lake he's at to drown for eternity.

hold on

you whispered again at the back of his mind. in the vivid dream he drowned himself in, away from this pain. his lips would open, water filling them again and again, letting him breathe and kills him again, "why?" he whispered, "i could hold you here."

and he knows it wasn't real. none of it was real. but you're there. you're never in his dreams before. not when you were taken back in 1864 the same way a heart was ripped off one's chest. but he could hold you here. you're here, even if it's a lie. and maybe the blurry figure floating before him is a lie, too.